Let curses from their rookery fly, And flap their foul wings o’er his bones, The autumn wind that round him moans Will mock them, while in vain they try To penetrate those friendly stones.
Come what might come, from man or elf, He dared not quarrel with himself, Nor stab the Truth that in his breast Had found a warm and welcome nest. No terrors of the burning lake, Fancied or real, beyond the grave, Nor purgatorial flames could shake His manly soul, so firm and brave, For he was neither fool nor slave. True to himself, he lived and died, Not wilful, nor elate with pride, But steadfast in his honest thought, Self-justified, self-ruled, self-taught.
Our Brother! wheresoever now Thy spirit lifts its free-born brow, Behold thy kindred!—not alone In Canada will thousands own Relationship; throughout all lands,— Wherever freedom shines or dawns, An army with uplifted hands, Constrained by glowing links that bind Nobility of mind to mind, Will crown thee with their benisons.
Thus Guibord! shall the commonwealth Of truth’s and reason’s fearless sons,— Scorners of men who think by stealth, Now hold thee in fraternal trust, And consecrate thine injured dust, While woods grow green and water runs.
IT MOVES.
“I know it moves,” so said the man Whose genius read the astral scroll From east to west, from pole to pole, Yet, under a terrific ban,
Denied his thought, the truth denied, And crushed in soul betwixt the strife Of love of truth and love of life, To silence doomed he slowly died.
Since that dark hour, ’tis joy to know, The thoughts of fearless men have moved As move the stars; the years have proved Thy deathless worth, Galileo!